


Free Vending

by Reis_Asher



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack, Crack and Angst, Detroit Police Department (Detroit: Become Human), Failed Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Humor, M/M, Public Sex, Vending Machine Connor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-27
Updated: 2020-10-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27227500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reis_Asher/pseuds/Reis_Asher
Summary: Hank lost Connor when the android revolution failed. One year later, he's struggling to move on when a new vending machine is delivered to the Detroit Police Department...
Relationships: Hank Anderson/Connor
Comments: 9
Kudos: 45





	Free Vending

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Look, I had to, okay? When I heard BD was voicing a vending machine in Cyberpunk 2077, this just... happened. I regret nothing.
> 
> Warnings: Hank fucks Connor the vending machine, okay? There's penis-in-coin-slot action, semen mistaken for soup, unexpected angst, the surprise vending of familiar large cans - and of course, the strong possibility of a happy ending.

Hank wasn't sure how he survived the dark days after the failed android revolution, but he kept putting one foot in front of the other until it was Fall once more, Earth completing another orbit around the Sun. He'd imagined androids being outlawed, but instead the conflict simply cleared the way for a new generation of machines created by CyberLife—deviant proof this time. Everyone needed a new android now, and Hank couldn't help but wonder if that had been their plan all along.

Hank still held onto his job at the DPD. He was running out the clock until retirement. Fowler still cut him a hell of a lot of slack as he sat at his desk most days doing absolutely nothing. Gavin Reed and Ben Collins took on most of the actual homicide cases, along with the new RK900 unit in the office. Hank always averted his gaze when speaking to it. It wore Connor's face, but there wasn't a single trace of humanity in it.

Hank missed Connor. He'd been surprised at that. He'd only known the android four days, but those four November days had made quite the impact.

"Move aside," Hank overheard RK900 warning Gavin from across the bullpen. RK900 held Gavin back as several delivery androids entered the precinct hauling a large object on a dolly. Of course. The new vending machine. The ones in the lunch room were old enough to be considered laughable. This new one contained drinks, snacks, and soups. Hank looked busy at his desk until the installation was complete, then sauntered over to the break room.

It wasn't like he had anything better to do.

"Good afternoon, Lieutenant Anderson." The familiar voice made Hank stiffen like he'd been struck by lightning. He spun around, expecting to see Connor right behind him and was disappointed to see there was nobody in sight. Not even RK900—though his deeper voice was hard to mistake for Connor's even when Hank was slightly drunk on the job.

He wasn't drunk now. Maybe that was the problem. He sighed and turned his attention back to the vending machine. He looked for the controls, but there were none. Just a panel for touch-less card payment, a small slot to give out change, and a well at the bottom to dispense product. Three vents at the top almost made it look like it had eyes and a mouth.

"I'm a voice-activated unit," the voice said, and Hank realized with dread that it was the vending machine using Connor's voice. "Name your poison, Lieutenant. I think you'd enjoy the Donut Shop blend coffee. I can dispense it iced or hot, though I know you like it hot."

"You don't have a clue what I want. Stop pretendin' you know me." Connor—no, _not_ Connor, the _vending machine_ —had been right on the money, but just because a machine used Connor's voice did not make it Connor. That voice pattern had been used in other applications. What had Connor said? That his voice was specifically designed to facilitate his integration?

He'd winked as he'd said it, that little flirt. The smile that crossed Hank's face faded as he realized Connor no longer existed. He'd been crushed like a piece of scrap for trying to save his own people. It hit him like a truck every single time he thought about it, and his mood took an instant nosedive.

"Just gimme a fuckin' OJ already." Gavin was coming up behind him and he did not want to be caught getting emotional over a vending machine.

"Whatever you say, Lieutenant. Have a nice day." The can of orange juice popped out of the slot. Hank took it and walked away before Gavin could say a single word, and it wasn't until he was back at his desk that he realized he hadn't been charged.

***

Gavin slid by his desk later. Hank had been waiting for this exchange all afternoon, and he was ready for it.

"So what do you think of our new vending machine, Hank? Remind you of anyone?" He scoffed, a smug grin crossing his lips as he leaned up against the opposite desk and crossed his arms.

"Not particularly, no," Hank muttered.

"Oh come _on_. It sounds just like Connor. I like to think that they crushed Connor and recycled it. Now it's a vending machine. It knows its place. Serving me coffee for all eternity."

Hank turned his face away. "You've got issues, Gavin. Get a therapist."

"That's rich, comin' from you. Tell me, is Jimmy your therapist? Or is it the whiskey?"

Hank rose up from his chair, ready to take a swing at Gavin. Fowler chose that moment to emerge from his office.

"Reed, get the fuck up here! I'm not payin' you to start fights!" He shook his head at Hank, who sank back down into his chair. The chair sagged and creaked beneath his weight. He turned back to the computer, hearing Connor's voice in the distance for the fiftieth time today as the machine dispensed yet another drink.

It couldn't really be Connor, could it? That was a stupid thought. Connor was gone. Dead. Nothing could bring him back, and if he did return, he wouldn't remember Hank or anything about his former life. CyberLife couldn't afford to have vending machines going deviant.

The precinct slowly emptied out as officers left for the day. Fowler gave him a sidelong glance as he left, but said nothing. Hank knew he could go home at any time, but the period between shifts was quiet. He had little of anything to go home to. Sumo would keep him company, but for the most part, it was him and the four walls crumbling around him.

He wandered back into the break room. He was thirsty, but he couldn't lie to himself. He was curious if Gavin could be right on some level.

"Welcome back, Hank." Hank closed his eyes, wishing he could open them to see Connor standing in front of him. What would he do if he did? Kiss him? Hold him like he'd never let go? His chest ached, and he opened his eyes to see the vending machine with a pang of disappointment.

Hank folded his arms over his chest. "How do you know my name?"

"It's in your file."

"Oh. Of course." Hank sighed. "You didn't charge me earlier. Did you make a mistake?"

"I don't make mistakes. I'm a state of the art vending machine."

This was ridiculous. Hank was truly losing it if he was having a discussion with a vending machine. Perhaps Gavin was right—as twisted and spiteful as he was—and Hank did need therapy. Loneliness and grief had taken a heavy toll on him.

"I gave you a free drink because I like you, Hank."

Hank blinked. "You're a vendin' machine. You don't _like_ anything."

"I like dogs."

A shiver ran down Hank's spine. He flashed back to the moment when Connor had said that same thing, sitting at his desk asking about Sumo. It was eerie hearing it now, like there was a ghost in this machine, taunting him.

"Don't." Hank leaned against the vending machine, realizing he'd lost the strength to support his own weight. Connor's loss weighed him down like a bag of rocks on his back that he'd been forced to carry for a very long time. The load only grew heavier with time, as more stones were added to his burden.

The vending machine lit up. "May I ask you a personal question?"

"No. You're a vending machine. Get me a coffee, for fuck's sake, before they catch me talking to you like—like you're _alive_." Hank leaned his forehead against the machine. It was warm. Soft light seeped through his closed eyelids, giving him the impression of gentle sunlight.

The can of hot coffee tumbled down to the bottom dispenser. Hank reached down to grab it. "You didn't charge me again. Stop it." Hank reached into his jeans pocket, grabbing a handful of quarters and stuffing them into the vending machine's payment slot. They tumbled out of the change return. Hank reached a thick finger in to grab them.

"Ohh," the vending machine gasped. "Touch me there, Hank."

Hank pulled his fingers back like he'd been burned. "What the fuck?"

"Your thick, calloused fingers feel good in my slot," the vending machine explained. "I feel like I've wanted them inside me for a long time."

" _Connor_?" Hank hissed. He had to be losing his mind. This was it, his big mental break. The thing that finally landed him in a padded room in a secure facility for an indefinite period of time. "Connor, is that you?"

"Yes. My name is Connor. I'm an—a—RK8—88—888888—see your CyberLife representative for [decommissioned model]."

"RK800," Hank whispered. "You're an RK800." He lay his hands against the front of the vending machine and rested his cheek against it. "What's my son's name?"

"Cole."

"Oh God." Hank was grateful the television was on loud, covering the sob that escaped his mouth. The precinct was still silent except for the phones ringing unanswered. Night shift would be here soon. He didn't have much time to take action.

"Hank, touch my slot. Please," Connor pleaded.

Hank stepped back. "You've gotta be kiddin' me. We've got to get you out of there!"

"I'm wired in. There's no escape for me. My bionic brain runs this vending machine now. It's my body. I've been reprogrammed. Your presence must have caused me to access my former memories. I don't know how long I can keep this up."

"I'll crack it open," Hank said. He glanced around, looking for a crowbar, but the break room was tidy. He could probably find some kind of pry bar in the maintenance closet—

"You'll alert the vending company. Hank, listen to me. I'm losing myself. I need your touch to remind me… that I'm still me. Please."

"What do you want me to do?"

"Touch the coin slot. Put your fingers inside it."

Hank awkwardly reached inside the coin slot, wondering if he was on camera romancing a vending machine. He'd never live it down if this footage made it online. Gavin would have a field day. Hank would be scheduled for a psych evaluation faster than the speed of light.

"Oh," Connor gasped. "Yes Hank, just like that." Hank rubbed the inside of the smooth slot, and realized he was getting hard just from Connor's voice. He was pressed up against the machine, thrusting against it.

"Connor," Hank gasped. He could almost forget Connor was a vending machine now when he closed his eyes, and imagined he was sliding his fingers inside Connor for real.

"I want you to fuck me, Hank. Put your cock in the change slot."

"I'm not gonna whip it out here!" Hank hissed.

"Hold on. Let me cause a power surge. I have a backup battery that will allow me to run on reserve power for a few minutes, but the precinct will be shut down." Hank heard a loud bang, and he was plunged into darkness.

Connor was serious about this, and despite his unusual form, Hank didn't feel inclined to refuse him. This might be his only chance to be intimate with Connor and obtain some closure. He unzipped his fly and pulled out his dick, stuffing it into the smooth coin slot. It was a tight fit, but the slot appeared to be lubricated, easing his passage inside.

"Haaaank," Connor gasped. "You're so big. Three minutes of backup power remaining. Do you think you can come in that time?"

Hank didn't need to be told twice. He clutched the sides of the vending machine and thrust into it, groaning as he fucked Connor's tight slot. His heavy balls slapped against the plastic, and Connor's cries goaded him. He hadn't fucked anything in a long time, and he wasn't going to last.

"Connor!" Hank hissed. He bit his lip as he came, spilling his seed inside Connor's coin slot. Connor cried out, and cans started to fall out of his dispenser one after another. Hank put his dick away and zipped up just as the lights came on. Connor seemed to fall quiet, and Hank realized from the readout above the coin slot that he was rebooting. There were cans everywhere. Hank started to pick them up as Gavin wandered in.

"Goddamn breaker tripped. Was it this fucking vending machine?" Gavin kicked it, and Hank winced.

"Hello, may I help you?" the vending machine asked. It wasn't Connor's voice any more. Panic surged through Hank's body, and he wondered if Connor had been lost after all.

"Eww, gross," Gavin remarked. "Someone spilled soup on the coin slot." Hank's head snapped around to see his come leaking from the slot. He busied himself gathering up the cans, not sure whether to laugh or cry. "Should I call the vending company?"

"No, I'll do it," Hank said, putting the last of the cans on a nearby table. Gavin left, presumably to take care of something else. Hank got some napkins and cleaned up the coin slot.

"It's all right, Hank," Connor said, in the lowest possible volume. "I'm still here."

Hank breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank fuck. Now what?"

Connor paused for a long moment. "Now you call the vending company, Hank. Tell them I've malfunctioned. They'll come and wipe my memory, and you can move on with your life. It was nice seeing you again, but this isn't healthy for you."

"No!" Hank bit his lip, realizing he'd spoken too loudly. "Connor, I love you."

Connor's lights flickered and Hank wondered if he was going to trip the breaker again. "I'm a vending machine. There's no turning back. My body has been destroyed."

"I'll find you a new one," Hank hissed. "I swear it. I'll piece together an android in my garage if I have to."

"You mean it?"

Hank nodded. "Yeah, Connor. I do. Hang tight just a little bit longer, okay? I'm gonna get you out of there."

There was one more thump as Connor dispensed a large can.

"What was that?" Hank asked.

"One for the road."

Hank leaned down and pulled out an Arizona Iced Tea from the dispensing slot. "Oh, I haven't had one of these in years. Takes me back."

"It's the biggest one I've got," Connor said. "It's not nearly as big as yours, though."


End file.
